Blissless Ignorance
by chocobojockey16
Summary: Ignorance is never bliss for Kurosaki Ichigo—especially when the unknown involves the fate of his dearest little shinigami! One-shot


**Blissless Ignorance**

He hadn't seen her in two months. No call. No letter. No reassurance—just memories.

He knew nothing—had been told nothing. He had expected something. He had expected to be able to wait in Soul Society—had expected the privilege, the right, to stay with her, to make sure she was okay, to welcome her when she woke up...to apologize to her...if she woke up. He never even got the chance to visit her. He had left, had been forced through the senkaimon, simply knowing that her injuries were being tended to; he had seen first hand that they were fatal. He was back in Karakura now, surrounded by his family and friends. He was alone.

He hadn't seen her in two months. No call. No letter. No reassurance—just memories; just nightmares.

_ His world was dark. Cold too. As if he were a prisoner, trapped in jail without any way to get out, waiting helplessly in the numbing eclipse for his captor to finally grow bored and free him. The creeping fear surrounding him, biding it's time to overtake him completely and shatter any hopes of liberation. There was a cold sensation so strong and prominent that he wasn't sure if his body existed anymore; that he knew the only thing feeling the burning freeze was his very soul. The knowledge—or lack there of—that he was completely ignorant of the current situation annoyed him to no end: how he got there, why he was there, or what lay beyond the clouded murk. He wasn't sure how long he had endured the hostile black—his mind wasn't stable enough to comprehend time—until he felt a single shock radiate through his whole consciousness, and the small thrill of his returning senses was recognized._

_ The first to recover was smell. Blood—fresh and old. The latter being farther away while the raw plasma seemed so close the scent shot up through his nostrils and coated his sensory nerves. As the young shinigami became accustomed to the stench he could pick out a hidden aroma mixed within it: vanilla and cherry blossoms. Taste. He could taste the same salty liquid in his dry mouth. Next was touch. Slowly, as if his body was being filled with water, he became aware of his physical being. Feet, shins, knees, thighs, abdomen, torso, arms, neck, head, and...mask? He felt heavy; the force of gravity tugging down on his whole form. There was something else too. A familiar weight leaning into his chest. Something around his arm too...as if...the middle of his forearm was encased in a solid. Breathing. His was calm but deep. Hers was labored and shaky, yet peaceful. A voice—_His_ voice._

_ "Tch. You're one lucky bastard that she's here to stop me, King."_

_ He opened his eyes. The dark veil that had kept the lock on his prison finally withdrew, revealing a blinding white moon in the sky of Hueco Mundo reflected in a large pool of crimson blood. He instantly felt the venomous claws of fear wrench at his heart as his eyes sulkily trailed the liquid to it's source; he froze, feeling a single nail viciously drive through his cardiac organ as the poison of guilt shot through his veins._

_ He stood with Rukia, leaning against his chest, as her head rested on his shoulder. Her shinigami robes were torn in multiple places, her hair lifeless—dried blood mixed with sweat on the tips—and her__ reiatsu __fluctuated from petty to nonexistent. Her limp body would have fallen to the ground if not for his arm, protruding through her stomach, holding her up. He swore that, in the brilliant light from the Hueco Mundo sky, she wore a faint smile._

His body shot up from the bed, lashing out at the covers which seemed to cling to him. Breathing sporadically, he scanned his surroundings warily. _Home._ As if he were a child desperately searching for his dearest lost toy, he surged out of bed and stumbled to his closet, shoving to door aside. He was met with the usual: folded sheets, extra futons, and pillows neatly stacked inside the small space—not one spec of dust out of place. He remained deathly silent as the familiar realization crashed on him again. By that point, he was ready to give up and drown in it. Wearily, he slid back the closet door, and returned to laying flat on his bed. While shielding his eyes from the truth of the outside world with his left arm—the same left arm he had awoken to find thrust through her body—he begrudgingly tried to slip back into the kingdom of horror that now naturally came with sleeping.

"I'm so fucking tired of this."

Ichigo's life since his return from the war was like a dull never ending cycle. His movements lacked enthusiasm, his gloom expression seemed to have been carved upon his face, never to fade, and as the days droned on the awareness of time dissolved into a simple suggestion—a suggestion that Ichigo never took. The days were identical, the only distinguishing feature being what kind of nightmare he might have that night.

The other night he had had a particularly haunting vision: the storm of his mother's death replayed in his head, except instead of his mother saving him, it was Rukia, and he saw the turn of events not from his own view, but from the Grand Fisher's perspective. That dream had left him so completely dazed that while at school he only awakened from his stupor when it was time to go home.

As a part of his daily routine, Ichigo went to the Karakura library after school so that he could do his homework in peace. He could get things finished at his house, but he hated the worried looks Karin and Yuzu always gave him, and he still wasn't sure what to think about his goofy father being a high class shinigami. So to avoid the constants in his life Ichigo would retreat to the quiet halls of the library, until his shinigami representative badge would holler at him to get a move on. Just as it was doing at the moment.

With the spring season coming to an end the rainy days were supposed to have withdrawn, but this week in particular had Karakura being constantly pelted with the piercing storm. Ichigo had only been out for about two minutes and his shinigami uniform was already soaking while his arms were covered in premature goosebumps. He could sense two hollows close by, both relatively small. He had planned to take care of them quickly, get out of the rain, take a warm shower, finish his homework, and go to bed before his old man bothered him, but Ichigo's plans never do stay on course. He had not expected there to be a third hollow lurking behind the scenes. Had not expected to be restrained by some odd gel-like substance before he finished off the first hollow. Had not expected to be so caught off guard. And most of all, Ichigo had never expected to be suddenly blown over by a certain someone's reiatsu, to hear that someone's serious yet calming voice, and to dumbly stare, mouth agape, as his three enemies were all encased in a fantastic show of ice and then shatter in a rain of sparkling frozen crystals. Ichigo was breathless.

"Rukia..."

The Kurosaki household had finally quieted down. As soon as Rukia stepped through the door, the invisible weight that had once held down the Kurosakis' usual boisterousness seemed to have dissolved. The only one who still appeared restrained was Ichigo.

While Yuzu prepared a special welcome back dinner for her "Rukia-chan," Isshin probed, gossiped, and commented to Rukia about all that had happened while she was away, and Karin sat to the side while contributing the occasional snide comment. Ichigo in the meantime took a shower.

Dinner was a little more awkward. Although Isshin filled in the conversation gaps with boastings of his "lovely third daughter" there was still tension among everyone—a collective anxiety whose source was the anonymous suspense between Ichigo and Rukia. And now here Ichigo was, 3am, lying in his bed still thinking about how to resolve all this apprehension.

When Rukia had helped him out merely hours ago, when he had seen her face for the first time in months, he couldn't find the courage to say anything. She had teased him at first, saying something like "is this the best you can do without my superior guidance?" She had been trying to relax the mood, but Ichigo was so nervous he barley heard her. He then walked right past her and asked, "So I guess you're staying at my house?" That had been the only thing he said to her since she returned. They didn't speak walking to his house in the rain (neither suggested to use shunpo), nor at dinner, and they didn't even make eye contact as they passed each other in the hall to go to bed.

Ichigo desperately wanted, needed, to reach out and talk to her, but what could he possibly say knowing how much he had hurt her? Why did she come back? Why did it take her so long? Was it because she was scared of him? Ichigo's mind raced. He mapped out a city of doubts, drove down every road of worst case scenarios, crossed intersections of ideas, and sped across freeways of questions. His thoughts increased in speed, going faster and faster until everything came to an abrupt stop when he heard his door open with a soft click. His mind crashed when he felt Rukia's reiatsu. She sat nervously at the foot of his bed.

"Ichigo, I know you're awake" she whispered softly.

Said boy, shifted slightly and asked, "What do you want?" He was trying to sound annoyed from being woken up, but she could tell he was on the defensive. Rukia sighed in annoyance.

"Scoot!" she commanded while firmly shoving Ichigo aside. Surprised by her assertiveness, Ichigo looked over his shoulder to see her. Rukia had laid down on her side, the two of them now back to back on his small bed. In shyness, he turned back to face the wall.

He grunted and asked, "You didn't answer my question. What do you want?"

"Well," she began matter-o-factly, "Your reiatsu was flaring horribly so I decided to see if you were okay, and then decided to stay here awhile so I don't wake up Karin and Yuzu—they almost woke up as I was leaving. Now what about you Ichigo? I was expecting a large social gathering to celebrate my return! Honestly how am I supposed to properly adjust without a welcome back 'bash,' as your human slang calls it! Of course, if you really put your mind to it, I'm sure you could—"

"How?"

Rukia paused in her teasings.

"How can you make jokes so easily when..." his voice was hushed and strangled. "When you had almost been killed because of me! Almost killed _by_ me!"

His voice was now raised and conflicted. During the past months Ichigo had suffered in ignorance of Rukia's condition. He had thought out what he would've liked to say to her if he ever saw her again, but now all his speeches, words, and thoughts escaped him. His whole soul ached with the pain that her absence left, and now he was flooded with emotions. He had no time to think, his words overflowed out his lips, and the only thing he saw was Rukia's limp body leaning against his under the bright Hueco Mundo sky.

"Everyone knows what happened, everyone knows how weak I was, and how I lost control, but no one says anything! They all just ignore it and move on! How can they act like it's no big deal! How can you forgive me so easily! Why can't you just hate me! Just tell me how me and my powerlessness disgusts you and leave! Stop showing me so much mercy!"

His body was shaking terribly now, and his breathing was short and labored. Ichigo shut his eyes tightly and clenched his fists, trying to calm himself down. Rukia lay beside him motionless. She didn't speak or move until Ichigo regained his wavering breathe.

"So you want me to hate you huh?" Rukia breathed softly. She sounded...tired. "You, the one who I entrusted my powers to. The one who I left to protect, and the one who ironically ended up saving me." As Rukia spoke Ichigo's body slackened. "You want me to hate one of my most precious nakama—the man I owe my life to?"

Finally Ichigo turned, and to his surprise Rukia was facing him. The deep indigo in her misted stare spoke to him of compassion, forgiveness, understanding and...something else he couldn't name. Her hair was slightly tousled and her mouth inclined on one side. So hypnotized was he with her face that he failed to see her small fist targeting his jaw.

Ichigo's mouth was suddenly hit with so much force that his upper body was launched backwards and collided with this wall.

"How dare you expect me to have hated you!" she screamed in his face. "You're such a blind idiot!"

Ichigo just stared at her, baffled.

"And wipe that stupid look of your face!" she yelled as she slapped him hard across the face. "If I get hurt it's my own fault, and in this case my own choice! You regained control and that's all that matters! Stop beating yourself up for something that happened because of my own stupidity!"

Ichigo's gaze was downcast as his jaw and cheek throbbed painfully.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" Rukia raised her hand to slap some sense into him, again, but in the next instant her wrist was caught in Ichigo's tight grip, his fiery stare burned into hers. In one breath Rukia's back crashed against the soft mattress and she gazed, a light blush on her face, at the boy hovering above her. He locked down both her arms on either side of her head.

"I-Ichigo, wha-what are you doing!" His eyes were shaded over by his hair, making her even more distressed.

Ichigo remained silent for a long while, his breath soft as he listened to Rukia's shaking pulse. After a while he finally raised his head to reveal a large and humored smirk. His eyes were bright and dancing as he gazed at her. Rukia's words had lifted the deep guilt he had been harboring, and now with the only feelings left in him shouting about how much he missed her, his courage spiked. Quickly, so she wouldn't be able to resist, he captured her lips in his.

Having been taken by surprise, Rukia's jaw slackened, allowing Ichigo to skillfully slip his tongue past her lips. He made slow sweeping motions across her mouth, coaxing her to reciprocate. He didn't have to wait long. After the first stroke of his tongue Rukia was quick to respond, using her own appendage to stroke back. As the kiss deepened Ichigo's hands slipped from Rukia's. He ran one through her soft raven hair while the other cupped her cheek. He tilted her face just enough to allow him better access. Rukia's hands in response both dug into Ichigo's fiery tresses, her nails lightly grazing his scalp. As Ichigo explored more and more of Rukia's delicate mouth her flavor began to intoxicate and warp all his senses.

Her scent filled his nostrils and her vanilla taste danced wildly on his taste buds. He could only feel the parts of his body that were in contact with hers, his eyes were blinded by lust, and his ears filled with her soft moans. Their tongues danced in a steady waltz, stroking and petting each other's, while occasionally breaking off to sweep along the entire mouth.

Rukia was responding fabulously to his touch. With every stroke of his skilled tongue he would receive a moan, for every nip at her lips she would shudder, and as his hands explored her body she would inhale sharply every time he brushed her bare skin. In order to keep his own hormones in check he knew he had to stop—that, and the kiss was using up all of his oxygen.

They slowly broke apart with their foreheads still touching. Ichigo watched as Rukia's eyes opened slowly, a hazy mist of deep violet blue.

Then, almost as fast as Rukia had been shoved onto her back, the small shinigami was flipped on her side and shoved into the firm chest of Ichigo Kurosaki as he nuzzled his face in her hair.

"G'night Rukia" he whispered.

Rukia chuckled lightly, "You sure have a weird way of solving things."

"Heh" he scoffed. "You know you like it."

Luckily for Rukia, her face was too close to his chest for him to see her face lite up pink.

"You wish."

"Yep."


End file.
